


What's Down The Yellow Brick Road?

by TheBlackLagoon



Series: The Tin Man [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gay Billy Hargrove, Heather and Billy are friends!, M/M, Season 3 rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackLagoon/pseuds/TheBlackLagoon
Summary: It all comes down to certain choices. Who lives who dies- they're just that- choice after choice after choice. And maybe Billy made the right one when he stayed home that fateful Friday night.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: The Tin Man [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979021
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	What's Down The Yellow Brick Road?

There is a ringing in Billy’s ears when he wakes up. Loud, electronic buzzing. It takes him too long to figure out it’s his alarm clock. He clicks it off, and rolls onto his back, trying to pull himself out of the depths of deep sleep.

There is a churning in his gut, a buried sense of heavy unease. He tries to remember why, and then-

_Karen Wheeler- the pool- the date that was his own moronic idea- pacing his room for three hours the night before, until deciding he couldn’t go through with it._

Billy brings his hands up, pushing his palms against his closed eyes, the humiliation of the whole mess making his skin crawl. He’d taken it too far, like fucking Icarus and the Sun. 

Crashing into the sea wasn’t as fun as it used to be.

It’s 6:30, and he knows he has to be in to work at 7 to do a sweep of the pool, make sure the chlorine levels are in check, and unlock the locker rooms but- he can’t get himself to move from underneath the covers. The clock keeps ticking, _6:35- 6:40- 7:00- 7:12- 7:47-_

The phone starts ringing down the hall at 8:00 sharp, and Billy is certain it’s for him. He thanks his lucky stars that Neil’s been golfing with Susan’s dad in Muncie over the weekend, and still hasn’t arrived back in town. If the phone had woken him up on a Sunday- yeah, it was a lucky break for Billy.

By the third ring, Billy’s shoved off his covers and has got his hand on the door knob. He makes it to the phone by the fifth.

“Hargrove residents, William speaking,” his voice is tight, but he does his best to sound polite- for all he knows it’s his dad or Susan on the other line calling to check in. It’s not though.

“Hey Billy, Joe here- Heather called me from the pool about a half an hour ago, she says you weren’t there to open up this morning. I had to drop by myself to unlock the doors, and normally you’re pretty punctual so-”

“I- I’ve um- I’ve got a fever,” Billy stutters out, cutting off the rest of his manager’s query. There is only a beat of silence before he gets a response.

“Shit really? How high is it?” The panic already edging Joe’s voice gives Billy a sign of success. 

See, Billy is good at reading people, and this works to his advantage most times rather than not. He’s just good at noticing the little things. His manager Joe is a complete, and total germaphobe- and not that Billy doesn’t like to keep his space clean, but Joe just- takes things to the extreme.

“Uh- 102.” _Shit, that was too high, he should have gone with 100._

“102? Jesus man, get off the phone, I’ll have Evan cover your shift,” Joe says quickly, thankfully ignoring the fact Billy had been perfectly healthy the day before. 

“Thanks- thank you,” Billy says, relief flooding his system, as he leans against the wall with the phone still pressed to his ear. 

When Joe still hasn’t hung up the phone after a couple of beats though, Billy pushes a little bit. “Is there- anything else?” 

“You haven’t- interacted with anyone here at the pool right? Because if we have an outbreak-”

“ _No-_ I think we’re good there. Just, me.”

“Alright, good- call Alicia if you’re feeling better tomorrow,” Joe says, voice a little lighter, apparently satisfied with Billy’s answer.

“Right, bye,” Billy says, but the phone clicks off before the _bye_ , and he’s left with a ringtone. With a sigh, he places the phone back on its hook and shuffles back to his bedroom. Max’s door has stayed shut the entire time, she’s somehow still the heaviest sleeper in existence.

He thinks maybe the only thing left to do is go back to sleep.

He wakes again at noon, feeling somewhat less fatalistic about the whole Karen thing. He still doesn’t want to be seen outside of the house for a good few months, but he feels like he can breathe just fine under the safety of his covers. Unfortunately for him, his stomach has other ideas, that actually involve leaving his bedroom.

He stumbles from his room, clad only in his boxer shorts wiping the corners of his eyes as he tries to wake up for good this time. Max is still nowhere in sight, and if he’s lucky, she’ll be out skating for the afternoon, and out of his way. 

He pulls open the fridge and stares in dismay at the dismal array of food left from last week's shopping trip. There’s a lone jar of pickles on the top shelf, and an opened plastic bag of sliced ham, surrounded by coke cans and beer. In the door, there's a half full container of mayonnaise, a bottle of chocolate sauce, and a mini hot sauce bottle. All that’s left of the sliced bread are the heels.

With a sigh, he pulls out the bread bag, ham, mayonnaise, and sliced pickles. He nearly startles when he shuts the fridge door and Max is staring back at him, her brow furrowed.

“You do know what shirts are don’t you?” She asks sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she shoves him to get to the fridge. He lets it go with no complaint this time, as he goes to stand at the island countertop, setting his sandwich prep down and then grabbing a plate from the cabinets.

“No, enlighten me,” he says and receives a raspberry in response as he shoves his fingers into the pickle jar. Max watches with a grimace as he pulls out several slices and places them on top of the bred heel. 

“What are you doing home anyway- shouldn’t you be annoying swimmers at the pool?” Max asks, turning away as she pulls two Coke cans from the fridge. He shrugs, opens the drawer beside him for a butter knife, and then begins smearing a dollop of Mayonnaise across the other slice of bread. He lays the ham over the pickles and then places the other half of the sandwich on top.

“I called in sick.” 

“Bullshit- who eats a mayonnaise, pickle, and ham sandwich when they’re sick?” Max questions motioning to him and the aforementioned sandwich he’s just taken a bite of. 

“I do,” he says, and then promptly drops his jaw to show the mouthful of half-chewed food. Max’s face immediately crumples in disgust, and he smiles gleefully closing his mouth to start chewing again, as she over exaggeratedly gags.

“ _You’re disgusting_ \- El is over so you better stay out of my room,” she says with a shiver and a hard look in his direction before she’s walking out of the kitchen in a huff.

“I wouldn’t go into your room any way shithead,” he calls after her, and just as she takes the bend down the hall she flips him the bird. 

“ _Just stay out!_ ” Max yells over her shoulder and Billy rolls his eyes hard, dropping his half-eaten sandwich onto the plate. It’s not as appetizing as he thought it was going to be. 

Besides its lack of actually tasting good, Billy finishes the sandwich, then dutifully cleans the rest of his dishes, knowing full well if his dad found dirty dishes in the sink when he got back, he’d flip. He stares bored, out of the window overlooking the sink, watching as cars pass by every so often. 

There is a moment where he thinks he sees Karen Wheeler’s station wagon, and he drops the butter knife into the soapy water in panic. But the car passes by without stopping even a second, and Billy rolls his eyes in frustration as he dunks his hands into the water filled sink searching for the lost knife.

Like she would visit his house. He was an aberration in her life, not something she’d actively seek out. 

He thinks, wearily, if Max does have a friend over he should probably put something else on, so as soon as his plate is dried and restocked in its cabinet, he heads back to his room. The laundry basket is overflowing, but the loose tank that’s laid out on his floor doesn’t smell horrible, so he throws that on with little hesitance, as well as a pair of black gym shorts he finds under his bed.

There is a burst of giggles from down the hall when Billy leaves his room again, and he’s grateful that Max hadn’t decided to commandeer the living room for her little hang out. No way would he want to be near whatever gossip teenage girls had to discuss.

He heads down the hall with every intention of vegging out on the couch for the foreseeable future when the doorbell rings. With a groan of frustration, he moves past the living room, the T.V, and the couch, and goes to open the front door with a glower.

The kid standing on his stoop is probably the most pathetic middle school boy in existence. The unfortunate bowl cut aside, his shoulders are hunched, and he’s got bags under his eyes so dark Billy wonders if he even knows what sleep is. He startles when the door opens, taking his hands out of his khaki shorts to hang them at his sides limply. Billy just stares and raises an eyebrow.

“Is uh- Max in?” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, and the kid nods his head, and then there’s silence. It’s several long, awkward beats before he tries again.

“Can I- see her?” He finally asks, and Billy, taking rare pity, relents. He opens the door wider and steps aside, raising his arm in something of a welcoming gesture.

“You can wait in the living room- I’ll go get her,” he closes the door as the kid shuffles in, his eyes darting around the messy entryway like he’s making sure there’ll be a way to escape. Billy hates that he recognizes the look so quickly. 

He gestures to the couch, and then without waiting to see if the kid will sit, he starts on down the hall.

His first mistake is not knocking when he opens Max’s door. It’s just the two girls laid out on the bed with comics scattered around, but as soon as Max sees Billy in the doorway she gasps like he’s caught them doing drugs.

“I told you to stay out!” A throw pillow he hadn’t even seen her grab, hits the wall beside his head, and Billy ducks away, his jaw immediately tensing in frustration.

“Jesus Christ, I swear to God Maxine I’ll drag you out by your hair. You’ve got another one of your little friends waiting in the living room,” he yells, half closing the door so that any more flying projectiles will have less a chance of hitting him. The sound of feet hitting the floor signals it’s probably safe and he opens the door to see Max standing there with her hands on her hips. 

“ _Who?_ ”

“How should I know, I’m not part of the fucking baby sitters club,” he says with an apathetic shrug, and Max’s glower increases tenfold.

“You’re literally useless,” she says as she shoves past him, hard. He nearly trips her in retaliation but has to step out of the way for El, who’s following closely behind, silent and foreboding as always. The kid gives him the heebie-jeebies, big time. She just- stares too much.

He waits for them to make it down the hall, and turn into the living room, before slowly following. Normally he wouldn’t care enough to be so nosy, but he has reason enough not to trust the kids in Hawkins. For good measure, as he passes his door, he opens it and closes it with a thud.

He makes sure to avoid the creakier parts of the floor, and then carefully leans against the wall, pressing close to hear the beginnings of the conversation.

“ _-a girls' day Will,_ so whatever message you have from Mike or Lucas can wait,” Max’s voice is loud enough for Billy to easily catch.

“They didn’t send me,” the kid- Will, says quietly, and there’s a definitive pause. 

“Okay, then what?” Max asks, voice obviously tinged with impatience.

“I think- I think the Mind Flayers back,” Will’s voice comes out warbled like he’s trying to make sense of the words himself as he’s saying them. It’s then that Billy comes to the conclusion this must be some nerdy Dungeons and Demons thing they’re doing. Max has never been interested herself, but maybe she caved if El’s joined in. Otherwise- they’re speaking in some code in an effort not to be eavesdropped on. Which is as, if not more, nerdy than some kiddy board game.

It takes a moment for him to realize the room is still quiet. There is silence, for so long Billy almost thinks they’ve left the living room somehow until El speaks.

“It can’t be here,” she says, voice low and steady, the pinnacle of calm. 

“It’s just, two days ago, when the blackout hit the mall, I felt- _I felt him_. And sometimes I just, I panic I know, but I felt it again out on the hill when we were putting up Cerebro,” Will says, voice tight, seemingly right on the brink of an anxiety attack. 

“The gate closed, are you saying El didn’t do a good enough job?” Max says, so accusative, so defensive Billy almost wants to walk into the room to tell her to shut it. But it’s just a board game they’re talking about, and Billy’s not planning on making a fool of himself in front of a bunch of 8th graders.

“No! I- I wouldn’t ask unless I- I just need you to check, _please_.”

“She doesn’t have to-” Max starts, but then her voice cuts out unexpectedly. Not alarmingly fast, but as if someone had given her a warning look to stop. If Billy had been in there it would have been him.

“Max, I’m okay, I can do this,” El’s voice sounds so fucking serious that Billy doubts for just a moment if this has anything to do with a children’s game at all. It sounds more like they’re talking about a war they left in the past. Something churns in Billy’s gut- this isn't right. This sounds too real.

Again, silence permeates the living room, but it feels more like a decision is being made, instead of outright shock.

“Fine, but we can’t do it here,” Max finally says, and this is Billy’s cue to get back to his room. He can hear them getting up, and quickly and carefully moves backward towards his door. He slips in just as he can hear Max’s loud footfalls to her own room.

He can hear the front door open and close, but still, he waits for the sound of Max's bedroom door. After a few moments, it comes and again he waits until he hears her pass his room.

“Where are you going?” Billy asks, as he casually opens his bedroom door. Max is only a few feet away and her back stiffens, a backpack stuffed full hanging off her shoulder. She turns to look at him, mouth pinched like she’s preparing for a fight. Maybe she is.

“El’s place- which is also the sheriff’s place, so if you think I’m putting myself in unnecessary danger-” 

“ _Jesus_ , I don’t care, just go,” Billy cuts her off, but his growing unease does shrink. He’s not met the guy personally, but Hopper’s an adult, in a position of authority who can actually do something to help. They’re better off at his place than with Billy. 

“Okay, well- _bye_ ,” she says, swinging her backpack over one shoulder and then quickly makes a break for the front door.

“Call Susan if you're sleeping over!” He calls out as she opens the door, and there’s muffled _okay_ thrown over her shoulder, before the door slams, and there’s silence.

Whatever Max is up to, it’s probably best he stays the fuck away from it.

**~~~**

Billy can’t hide from the pool forever, especially now that Susan and his dad are back in the house, and would definitely notice if he decided to stick around. So Monday morning he doesn’t ignore his alarm, he throws on a baggy sweatshirt, keeps the gym shorts he slept in, on, and leaves before the sun is even up.

It starts raining just as he pulls into the parking lot, and he thinks maybe he’s being punished for something. There are too many things to name, that could be the cause, but there’s definitely some higher force out to get him

Billy fucking hates the rain. It makes his joints stiff, and his skin prickle uncomfortably. California rarely had rain. Indiana has plenty to make up for what he missed.

Rain also means, no one is willing to swim, and by the time the rest of Billy’s coworkers shuffle in, the pool is still very much dead. Unfortunately, Joe seems to have confused the job description of a mailman and a lifeguard, because rain or shine, they’re supposed to look after the pool. 

Which means Billy, wrapped in a sopping sweatshirt, and shorts is sitting under the only semi-dry place. A dilapidated awning that’s only keeping half of the rain away- at least there's a bench for Billy to sit on and be miserable.

The doors to his right open up and for a moment Billy thinks some crazy kid has decided it’s the perfect time to take a dip when he notices it’s just Heather. Her usually styled hair has frizzed with the extra humidity in the air, but besides that, she looks just as put together as usual. She swings her head around, eyes gazing out at the pool until she notices where Billy has taken refuge. 

Heather is- _nice_. That’s about all he can say about her. They work together, and so they _have_ to be kind of chummy. Waking up at dawn to clean leaves and more unsavory things out of a pool is a bonding experience few get to have. But they don’t _talk_ , they chat, they say hi, but they don’t talk. They’re not friends.

Which is why when Heather steps out into the rain, further ruining her hair to sit beside him, he's kind of taken by surprise.

“Karen Wheeler stopped by yesterday looking for you,” she says, frowning up at the awning that’s letting wet drip down onto her head. Billy tries to keep his face relaxed as he responds.

“Oh yeah, what’d she want?”

“She just said she wanted to apologize for missing your swimming lesson- some family thing came up,” Heather says with a shrug, moving a wet piece of hair off her face. 

“Oh,” Billy says, almost breathes it out. Karen hadn’t even gone. They’d stood each other up- he didn’t have to explain, because she hadn't been there either. 

“I didn’t know you did private lessons,” Heather speaks again, breaking through Billy’s relieved inner monologue, and he nearly tells her he doesn’t. Except, that was the whole story wasn’t it.

“Well- I don’t- usually,” he mutters, turning his head away. Heather hums, and then the only noise between them is the patter of the rain.

“You been to Starcourt yet?” Heather asks suddenly. Billy doesn’t turn to look at her, shrugging as he wipes water from his eyes, but he appreciates the change in topic.

“Yeah, who hasn’t? It’s the only place in this town with anything worth doing.”

“Have you tried out Scoops Ahoy then?”

“The dinky sailor themed place? No, I’m not 12,” Bill says frowning, finally shifting to look at her. Her mascara is running a little at the edges, and her hair is now plastered to her forehead from the rain, but none of this seems to be bothering her. 

“I didn’t realize ice cream had an age limit,” she says, and there’s a mocking tone to her voice that sets him on edge.

“Is this supposed to be going anywhere?”

“Yeah, I think we should ditch and grab ice cream,” she says with a shrug, matter of fact as she runs a finger under her eyes smudging the wet mascara even more. She needs a mirror.

“We can’t leave,” Billy states, turning away from her, and crossing his arms as he looks doggedly out at the pool. 

“Sophie and Doug are watching the front desk, we don’t have anything to do, _come on_ ,” Heather pleads, wiping a raindrop from her brow, a useless effort as they’re both still thoroughly soaked.

“If Joe comes by-”

“We’ll be on lightning watch for at least another hour- it’s not like people are begging to get in right now anyway,” Heather says, squinting out to the empty pool, as sheets of rain continue to pour with no sign of stopping. Billy sits for a moment, knee bouncing until finally, he stands with a sigh. 

“Alright _fine_ , I’ll drive you to get ice cream,” Billy says, rolling his eyes. Heather’s eyes brighten as she watches him, and she jumps up with a smile.

“You’ll drive _us_ to get ice cream, this is for you,” she says poking his side playfully, which makes Billy blink in surprise. No one has ever teased him quite like that- like a friend. 

“Sure, thanks so much,” he says, quickly masking his surprise, but Heather just laughs as she races through the rain to get to the front office entrance.

**~~~**

It takes Heather approximately five minutes after they pile into Billy’s car for her to bring up the one thing he definitely doesn’t want to talk about.

“So- did you advertise for private swim lessons, or did Mrs. Wheeler ask you personally?” Billy nearly stops the Camaro then, because he can tell from the way Heather’s voice has taken on a too casual tone, _she knows_.

“She asked, it didn’t seem right to turn her down- ya know if she wanted to learn so bad,” Billy says, voice gruff and Heather’s eyebrows go up, but she just leans back in her seat, looking relaxed- the exact opposite of Billy.

“Right- And how much was she going to pay you?” 

“I don’t know, ten bucks an hour I guess,” Billy shrugs, and Heather purses her lips, nodding like he’s just given her the answer to a question he hadn’t meant to give.

“She just seemed so upset- ya know for missing a swim lesson,” Heather says lightly, leaning down to grab her purse, and pulling out a tube of lipgloss. Billy keeps his eyes on the road, but his knuckles have gone white from how tightly he’s gripping the wheel.

“Heather if there’s something you want to say just say it.”

“She has kids. Three of them- ones like five-” Heather starts, side eyeing him as she applies a new coat of lip gloss in the drop down mirror.

“I get it,” Billy snaps, and Heather shrugs like she doesn’t exactly care that she’s making him uncomfortable. She caps her lip gloss, sucking in and then out to get an even coat. 

“I know it’s none of my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Billy says, yanking the wheel a little too harshly to the right. The car swerves dangerously fast around the corner, and Heather's hands go to grip the door. When they're going straight again at a decent speed, Heather blows a strand of hair out of her face with a glare.

“You can be a nice guy Billy when you’re not trying to act like an asshole.”

“You were the one who wanted to get ice cream, Holloway,” he says placidly, but all Heather does is let out a short laugh.

“I thought you needed a break- obviously I was right.”

There is a quiet, as Billy lets his frustration slowly seep away. It’s been something of a pastime of late, learning to control his anger. He can’t say he’s much better at it, but it’s something.

“I didn’t go either- just so you know,” he finally says, and Heather turns to look at him in surprise. Her mouth opens, then closes slowly. Finally, she nods her head once, almost like a proud parent. Billy tries not to overthink it.

“Well- good, I’m glad.” 

They drive in silence for the rest of the trip, but it doesn’t feel… awkward. It’s easy, and calm as the rain continues to patter against the windshield. 

**~~~**

The Scoops Ahoy is empty. Not of customers, in which several groups of teens have gathered with they’re already purchased ice cream- but the employees are nowhere in sight. 

“What’s it take to get some service around here?” Billy says, leaning over the counter to try and squint through the closed blinds into the back. There is no movement he can spy, and he rolls his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t know, we could hit up Orange Julius,” Heather says, but she doesn’t seem too upset by her ruined outing. She’s leaning casually against the counter, checking her nails, and Billy wonders if this was somehow all a ruse to piss him off even more. 

“Hold on, we’re back!” The sound of rubber shoes hitting the ceramic tiling startles them both, as they watch a girl in the embarrassing Scoops Ahoy sailor suit come rushing from the middle of the food court. She slides past Billy, breathing a little heavy as she picks up a notepad.

“Okay- I’m ready.”

“Great, so we can actually order ice cream now?” Billy snarks, irritation still buzzing across his skin, but the girl, _Robin_ , as her name tag reads, seems much less phased by his annoyance than he’d like.

“Of course sir, that’s all I’m here for.” Before Billy can make it worse, Heather is stepping up to the counter, placing a hand in front of him as a placating measure.

“Sorry about him, the rain makes him grumpy- Can I get two scoops of double chocolate mint?”

“Of course- and you?” Robin says, her customer service smile dropping from her face as soon as she turns from Heather to Billy.

“One scoop of vanilla,” he says flatly, and Robin writes the order down with a smirk.

“I _love_ the originality- Steve come scoop this lovely gentlemen’s ice cream while I go back and get another tub of double chocolate mint,” Robin says, sending a brief smile in Heather’s direction before she’s heading back into the stock room. It takes Billy a moment, to realize there’s only one Steve in Hawkins that he knows.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” The voice is, unfortunately, exactly who Billy was expecting. Harrington, wearing a pair of binoculars around his neck, stumbles into Scoops Ahoy followed closely by Dustin- the only other friend of Max’s he’s been able to keep track of.

As soon as they see him, leaning against the counter, they halt in their tracks. Steve’s hand goes out, blocking Dustin in a protective manner, and Billy feels his stomach lurch. 

He shouldn’t have let Heather talk him into this.

“Holy shit- what are you doing here?” Dustin bursts out, and Steve’s hand drops as he rolls his eyes. The tension is broken, and Billy’s momentary panic subsides. They all have their roles to play here, and Billy hasn’t forgotten his.

“ _Trying_ to get ice cream, unless, of course, King Steve is too good for that kind of menial labor,” Bill sneers, and he can pinpoint the moment Harrington’s hackles raise. A muscle in his jaw is already twitching.

“Just give me a second,” he says, voice low, and moves to get behind the counter. Dustin is still on his tails, eyes wide with worry, as they switch between him and Billy. 

“What should I-?”

“ _I’ll see you in an hour, Dustin_ ,” Steve says, eyes going comically wide, and something must pass between them because suddenly Dustin is winking, _very inconspicuously_ , and then running out of the shop. 

Even Heather is staring in confused awe at the exchange.

“Does it ever get sad, having a bunch of 8th graders as friends?” Billy asks as he turns back around, watching as Steve opens up the clear glass case of the freezer. Steve does not look up, barely acknowledges Billy has spoken and instead turns his attention to Heather. 

“How have you been Heather? I heard you got into I.U.”

“Yep, I’m headed to Bloomington in August,” she says smiling politely, but her eyes are on Billy. Like she’s trying to gauge his reaction to this. He purposefully schools his face, making sure any frustration or jealousy is unidentifiable.

“That’s great- just the _one_ vanilla scoop for you sir?” Steve asks, finally looking at Billy, but all that’s behind his eyes is the cool veneer of customer service politeness. 

“Yeah, that's it,” Billy says, grabbing the styrofoam cup that Steve then slides his way.

“It’ll be 2.50,” Steve says, placing both hands on the counter, watching bored as Billy awkwardly tries to remember which pocket he put his wallet in. When he slides a five over, he mutters, _keep the change_ , and then turns from the counter with his ice cream clutched firmly in his hand.

“Where are you going?” Heather asks, hand going out to grab his elbow. 

“I’ll wait outside, don’t worry,” he says, trying for a smirk, but he’s not sure it comes off as sarcastic as he wants.

“ _Billy-_ ” she sounds exasperated, but lets her hand drop, and he rolls his eyes and heads out the exit. Harrington doesn’t say a word about the exchange.

**~~~**

When Heather meets him outside the shop about two minutes later, she doesn’t prod this time. She just takes a spoonful of ice cream and then drags him into the shopping center of the mall. Billy doesn’t even have time to protest, as they ride the escalator up to a row of department stores, gleaming in their newness.

They window shop for an hour, which Billy minds less than he thought he would. Heather very nearly buys him a dark blue, silk shirt from JCPenny’s, after he spends 5 minutes gazing at it. He turns her down nearly immediately, but the action itself makes him feel- well warm is the closest he can come to naming it.

Heather ends up getting herself a teal bodysuit, two new pairs of acid wash jeans, and while Billy wasn’t looking, the brand new Mötley Crüe _Theatre of Pain_ tape. 

She surprises him with it as soon as they get back to the Camaro- removing it from its clear plastic wrap and shoving it into the cassette player.

“ _Heather_ ,” Billy snaps as soon as he sees the theater mask design on the cassette box.

“What, you like Mötley Crüe don’t you?” Heather looks up innocently, as she presses play, keeping eye contact the entire time.

“Yeah, but I don’t need you buying things for me,” Billy says in a huff, trying to ignore the opening chords of _City Boy Blues_ coming out through the speakers. 

“Okay, so I didn’t, it’s _my_ tape, that I’ll keep in _your_ car,” Heather says with a grin, leaning back in her seat like the argument is over.

Billy wants to be angry, indignant that she decided to do something nice for him for- really no reason. But he’s been dying to get this tape since it came out last month, and he pays for repairs and gas for the Camaro with his paycheck from the pool, and he just hadn’t had the money saved. So he lets it go, he apparently is getting better at that, and they sit and listen to Mötley Crüe all the way back to the pool.

They park, and just as Heather is gathering her bags, she pauses as she listens to the new song that’s started up.

“Oh, _I love this one-_ I’ll leave when it’s finished, if you don’t mind,” Heather says, turning up the stereo a couple of notches more. Billy shrugs and relaxes into his seat.

“Your tape Holloway,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it and Heather laughs behind her hand. As _Save Our Souls_ continues to blast through the speakers, which Heather is clearly enjoying, Billy, nudges her. “Ya know, I didn’t think chicks dug this kind of music.”

Heather immediately rolls her eyes, looking over at him with a look as scathing as one of Max’s. He hates to think they’d get along. 

“What ‘ _chick_ ’ have you ever actually gotten to know before?”

“Fair enough,” Billy says and he lets it drop. Really, it’s not even that Heather is a girl- it’s just that no one ever really cares enough to be interested in the music Billy likes. 

The song finishes, as Vince Neil's voice slowly recedes, and Heather is the one to lean forward and turn it off.

“I had a good time, we should do it again, when we’re _not_ supposed to be working,” Heather says, softly, with a slight huff of laughter. She looks happy, really happy, and Billy can’t figure out why she would-

And it hits him then, what this whole thing has been about. Something heavy settles in his stomach, as he watches her gather up her purse and jacket, glancing over every few seconds to smile. 

_She’s been flirting this whole time, hasn’t she?_ The impromptu outing, the allure of skipping work, the teasing. How had he fucking missed it?

She was going to get suspicious if he didn’t make a move, wasn’t she? Any other guy would have already, she was Heather Holloway, captain of the swim team, popular among the popular- and she was flirting with _him_.

He had to do something, or she’d know. She’d make assumptions, and talk, and he can’t let that happen- not after everything he’s done.

“Ya know, my family's out till 6 if you want to come over?” He pitches his voice low, smooth, the same way he’d done with Mrs. Wheeler. Heather stops and turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve got dinner with my parents tonight, and I promised I’d pick a movie out from Family Video beforehand, _sorry_ ,” and she does sound sorry, sorry enough that Billy pushes forward just a bit more. He moves to lay his hand across the back of her seat casually, and her eyes dart to it in- _apprehension? Excitement?_

“It wouldn’t take us that long,” he whispers, bringing his hand closer to the nape of her neck to run his fingers through her hair. 

She stiffens immediately.

“ _Billy wait_ ,” Heather shakes her head quickly, removing the hand he’d had curled into her hair. The smile that had been present since they’d left on their excursion drops suddenly. She just looks pained now.

“ _What?_ ” He knows he sounds shocked, because he is, as Heather’s face colors beat red, as she clutches her purse to her chest uncomfortably. Had he misjudged? Again? 

“Why did you- we were having a good time, you didn’t have to say that,” she says, lowly, eyes downcast, and Billy wants to hit himself. 

“What did you expect me to think? You were the one who wanted to get ice cream, I thought-” he says, his own embarrassment and frustration tinging his words with an accusative tone. Heather looks up quickly at that, eyes flashing with a mirrored anger.

“I’m trying to be your friend, _dumbass_. You don’t have any of those as far as I know!” She snaps, glaring harshly until she sees Billy’s eyes widen. Her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ before Billy’s face hardens completely.

“Get out.”

“ _Billy-_ ”

“ _I said get out!_ ” He shouts, his pride stinging more than anything, but still, he regrets it as soon as it’s out of his mouth. Heather doesn’t flinch though, she just blinks once, and then stiffly she opens the car door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says quietly, before shutting the door with a loud _click_. 

He doesn’t stay around to watch her make it back to her car- just turns the ignition hard, and peels out of the pool parking lot. 

_He doesn’t look back_.

**~~~**

He does in fact see Heather the next day, and if he had any preconceived notions of her trying to apologize, he’s wrongly mistaken. When she arrives to take over his shift, all she does is nod as she passes. It almost makes him want to turn around and _talk_ to her, try to smooth things over himself.

But there’s a cut on his cheek from his father’s wedding ring that still stings because _he got home too late, and Max still wasn’t back from Jane Hopper’s place, and Susan didn’t cook his favorite meal, etcetera, etcetera_ , and he thinks maybe it’s the less complicated option if Heather just stays a coworker. 

Karen Wheeler thankfully doesn’t make a repeated appearance, but Billy still has to spend his shifts feeling the crawling eyes of the other pool moms. There had been a time when he’d actually enjoyed the attention but- they don’t care about him. They look and they preen, and they hope, but it’s all about them, and he’s sick of it.

By the time the pool closes, the afternoon sun low in the sky, Billy just wants to go home. Sneak in through his bedroom window, and sleep. Hope that Max is back and that Susan cooks dinner well enough that there is peace for a moment.

Heather leaves without saying goodbye, and Billy _doesn’t care,_ just heads to the showers, and washes away the sweat and the gazes of the older woman lounging on the poolside recliners. It takes him a while to feel human again.

He dries off and changes, slowly, thinking of the drive home, if his dad sees him pull up, the escape he wants so badly. In fact; he is thinking so much about all the problems awaiting him at home, he barely notices the noises coming from outside the locker room.

“Hey, pools closed!” He yells, shoving on his Hawkin’s Tigers sweatshirt, hair still dripping with water. The noises don’t stop, in fact, they seem to grow, like someone is physically throwing things around. 

Leaving the rest of his stuff with his open locker Billy trudges after the sounds, anger boiling just below the surface. If it’s some stupid kid, they are so dead. But when he reaches the source, the pool's supply closet, and he slams open the door Billy stops short in surprise.

Evan Gardner, an upcoming junior at Hawkins, and assistant lifeguard is standing stock still, back turned to the door. 

“Jesus dude, you scared me,” Billy says, breathing out slowly as he looks over the piles of trashed cleaning supplies. He can’t even be angry as he tries to reason why Evan would even be here.

“My bad,” Evan whispers, literally _whispers_ from across the room, and Billy steps forward letting the door close behind him. 

“You don’t need to be locking up man, I missed my shift Sunday so it’s on me,” Billy says slowly, knowing that whatever this is, probably has nothing to do with locking up. But Billy’s seen angry outbursts like this, he’s _had_ them before, and if he can get Evan away from the mess he’ll have done something good today.

“Hmm,” Evan barely moves as he makes the noise, and it’s so low, it almost sounds like a growl to Billy’s ears. He takes another step forward, fighting the uneasy feeling in his gut. 

“Evan- _what are you doing in here?_ ”

“I just- needed to collect a couple of things,” Evan says, louder this time- but his voice isn’t right. It sounds raw like he’d been screaming for a very long time. And then, as Billy’s eyes adjust to the dim supply closet, he can see something dribbling from Evan’s lips. And then he notices the open bottle of chlorine.

“ _What the fuck-?_ ” Is all Billy gets out, as he watches Evan swing the bottle of chlorine at his head in slow motion. He ducks just in time toppling himself into the shelves to his right, as the bottle that had been aimed at his head bursts with the force of impact on the opposite wall. Evan scowls, but it’s a distant look as his eyes turn to Billy. There are bags under his eyes, so dark, Billy wonders how Evan is even standing, and then he realizes that doesn’t matter because he needs to _run_.

Billy grabs behind him for something, anything, from the shelves to throw, and somehow his hand falls on a metal canister. As Evan shifts, dropping the dripping broken bottle, Billy makes his move. The canister leaves his hand in a clean arc, hitting Evan square in the head. There’s a crunch of bone, Billy assumes it’s his nose, but he doesn’t stick around to find out, scrambling for the storage room door.

He makes it into the hallway running so fast he slams into the concrete wall, and then keeps going into the maze of the boy's locker room. The noise of crashing shelves echoes from behind him, and Billy is at a loss of what to do. 

He can call the police, but the phone in the office is past Evan. He can run, but whatever is up with Evan shouldn’t be left alone, and Billy’s never just given up a fight before. He needs help, but he’s alone. 

_He’s alone, and he doesn’t know what to do._

But he’s out of time to think, as the sound of shuffling feet, round the bend, and Billy looks around for anything to defend himself with. His eyes alight upon his open locker, and the canister of body spray and he thinks maybe he can pull this off.

Billy waits, crouched between the lockers for Evan to pass by. It doesn’t take long, as Evans's pale legs cross Billy’s sightline, and he jumps from his hiding place prepared to distract and then run for the office.

Billy points the spray directly into his eyes, already red and swollen from the hit to the head. But all Evan does is wince, and then with reflexes that Billy knows shouldn’t be possible the body spray is slapped out of his hand, and Evan’s hand is on his throat.

Before he knows it, Evan has him pinned to the wall, legs dangling as the life begins to be choked out of him. Billy tries to fight, tries to remove the hold, but there is something, very, _very_ wrong with Evan.

Billy thinks, _this is it, and all this time I thought it would be my dad_.

But just as soon as Billy is sure he’ll lose consciousness, there is a metallic clang, and Evan is dropping. He collapses to the tiled floor like a marionette with its strings cut, and there behind him, is _Heather_. Held aloft in her hands is a bright red fire extinguisher, dented from the blow to Evans's head. She looks surprised, slightly nauseated by the blood pooling at her feet, and altogether very much in shock.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Billy asks, his voice nearly a rasp, as he leans heavily against the wall, gasping for breath. Heather steadies him, keeping her eyes on the prone form of Evan.

“I forgot my house keys, my parents weren’t in for some reason and I- _he was going to kill you!_ ” Heather’s voice rises in alarm, she drops the extinguisher and the clang echoes throughout the empty locker room. They both stare down at Evan’s unmoving body, shaking with adrenaline.

“We have to call the police,” Heather whispers after a moment, and Billy nods, not sure what else he can do. Heather holds out her hand, and he takes it as he steps over Evan’s body. 

“It was self defense, Heather, they can’t- it’ll be fine,” Billy says, but Heather stays silent and he doesn’t blame her for it.

“I didn’t know what else to-” Heather’s voice peters out as she turns to look back at Evan’s body, and for a moment Billy thinks it’s just the shock that’s marring her face in horror, but when he turns to look back around, it’s not just Evan’s body he sees.

Where Evan had been laying, is now a puddle of oozing flesh and bone, as if he had simply melted down to his core components. 

Before Heather can scream, before either of them can run, or do anything, the puddle moves. Grows arms of sinew and gore, and lunges. It catches Heather first, right past Billy in the blink of an eye. It sends her crashing into the wall with the force, and the scream that follows chills Billy down to his bones.

It doesn’t- whatever Evan is now- it doesn’t stay on top of her, as soon as it senses she’s incapacitated- her arms broken Billy can see it- it turns it’s fleshy, goo body in his direction.

The flesh of the thing tears in two and Billy realizes as a horrible wail emerges that that’s its _mouth_. Again it moves, but Billy is ready this time, and he dodges out of the way, skidding to halt a few feet closer to Heather. She’s barely conscious, but she’s backed herself away enough that all Billy needs to do is get to her and they can run.

The flesh monster reorients itself, and Billy sees his chance. It’s like bull taming. Bait and then switch.

The thing, _what used to be Evan,_ lurches forward and at the very last second Billy dodges out of the way. The line of lockers that had been behind him dent with the force of the creature and Billy takes that as his cue to run. He collects Heather in his arms, bridal style, and her eyes flutter as she tries to cling to consciousness. 

Billy doesn’t have to worry about opening the door, because Heather had, like the Godsend she was, propped it open as she’d come in. As Billy runs out, he kicks at the door jamb, sending it flying away, and the door slams shut after him. Seconds later as he runs through dew wet grass, there’s a thunderous boom from behind him. 

He resolutely does not look back.

There’s another horrible sound, of tearing metal, and- rending flesh, but Billy is at the Camaro, and his focus is entirely on Heather. Opening the passenger door and carefully, _carefully_ setting her inside. She groans softly as he jostles her arm by accident, but it’s then that he catches sight of the-thing-that-used-to-be-Evan. It’s with that the Billy slides across the hood of his car, and wrenches open the door. 

It’s ten yards away as he fumbles with the key. 

Eight, as he finally turns the ignition.

Nearly right in front of them when he floors it.

Something wet and viscous splatters on the window and Billy’s mind immediately supplies, _sorry Evan_ , as he turns on the windshield wipers, and tears out of the parking lot as fast as the Camaro can take them.


End file.
